


Like Teenagers at Summer Camp

by Pthithia



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Porn With Plot, a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pthithia/pseuds/Pthithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are trying to have quick, quiet, secret sex. Cue everything that goes wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Teenagers at Summer Camp

**Author's Note:**

> Someone take away my keyboard. I can't believe I'm posting this omg

"Fuck- hold on, I can't see shit-"

"Ow, you're pulling it tighter-!"

"Sorry, sorry! It's so fucking dark in here-"

"Let me help-"

"No, wait- _fuck, why are you wearing a belt-_ "

Enjolras let out a snort and tossed his head back on the pillow, curls slapping Grantaire in the face. The latter huffed, hands going again to Enjolras’ impossibly knotted belt, with actual _loops and buckles_ , while Enjolras laughed harder, arms flung up dramatically to cover his face.

" _There_ , fucking fuck," Grantaire snapped, undoing the metal contraption and yanking the sturdy canvas from Enjolras’ belt loops. "A whole lot of help you are," he grumbled, tossing it to the floor beside the bed.

"You love me," Enjolras answered frankly, still grinning. In the dark room Grantaire could only see a flash of those white teeth, the shine of his hair, a sliver of light coming in from under the door across the room.

"Do I? Do I love you?" Grantaire asked sarcastically, giving Enjolras a swift kiss before reaching down to undo his own jeans, kneeling above Enjolras. "C'mon, hurry up," he whispered. He could hear Enjolras rushing to obey, hands scrabbling at his t-shirt and jeans as he tried to wiggle out of them without disturbing Grantaire’s work.

Grantaire wrenched his shirt off, for once not concerned about what Enjolras thought of his pudgy belly and chest hair. In fact-

"Ow!"

"Sorry," Enjolras hissed, grabbing the jeans he'd just violently flung in Grantaire’s face and tossing them to the floor.

"Whose idea was this again?" Grantaire awkwardly slid out of his pants, kneeling again over Enjolras on all fours, the heavy blankets and comforters tenting above them.

"Yours, I believe." Enjolras grabbed Grantaire by the shoulders, pulling him down for a rushed kiss full of tongue and teeth and severe incoordination.

"Oh," Grantaire managed to say when he resurfaced for air, diving down to kiss him again. His hands were just beginning to wander south of Enjolras’ waist, and he wrapped his hand around the elastic band of those ridiculous tricolored boxers-

_"Fuck."_

Grantaire got a swift knee to his gut,  and when he toppled over Enjolras shoved him off the bed to land undignified on his ass on the rough hotel carpet.

_"What the actual fuck-"_

"Shut up, there's someone in the hallway!" Enjolras whispered, flattening himself against the mattress.

They allowed a few moments of tense silence to pass, listening, waiting, before Enjolras leaned over the edge of the bed, hauling Grantaire back up and under the blankets.

"Thanks a lot, asshole," Grantaire grumbled, kissing again at Enjolras’ jaw, his throat, his neck.

"I thought I heard someone," he muttered, giving Grantaire's hair a sharp tug to bring back his attention. "I believe you were in the middle of something?"

Grantaire smiled begrudgingly and went back to work, climbing on top and swiftly yanking down his thin shorts, feeling Enjolras do the same. Those, like the rest of their clothes, ended up crumpled somewhere on the floor across the room.

"Now kiss me."

Grantaire kissed him, feeling Enjolras smile against his mouth. "Hold on," he huffed, pulling away and groping blindly at the table beside the bed, hand closing around what he _really_ hoped was lube.

"Can't we turn the light on?" Grantaire mumbled, turning back to Enjolras and shuffling lower down the bed.

"No," Enjolras answered, leaning back. Grantaire could feel the heat of his skin, flushed and pink. "Courfeyrac and Combeferre think I'm sleeping."

"Whatever," Grantaire said, smiling as he lifted Enjolras' knees up to his shoulders, nipping lightly at the smooth flesh of his thigh. Enjolras gasped, hands tangling up in the sheets, and Grantaire popped the lid open on the tube and squeezed.

A bit too hard, as evidenced by the sudden splatter of cold, sticky lube all over Grantaire’s hands and Enjolras’ stomach. _Everywhere._

Enjolras let out a manly shriek at the sudden cold before laughing, and now he was laughing uncontrollably, at the absurdity of the situation, at the look he just _knew_ would be on Grantaire’s face.

"Crap- sorry, let me-" Grantaire was flustered, trying to clean up the mess without knocking Enjolras’ legs down, heat rising to his cheeks. "Shush- _shut up,_ someone's gonna hear you," he hissed. "I've never had to do this so fast." Enjolras giggled, biting his lip and quieting down.

Grantaire let put a quick breath, scraping enough of the mess off of Enjolras and onto his fingers, where he quickly warmed it up with his palms before reaching down. Enjolras’ light giggles suddenly cut off with a loud moan and a gasp when Grantaire pressed into him slowly without any warm up.

He tried to keep as quiet as possible, his chest heaving, breath whistling through his fingers. Grantaire drove his hand forward roughly, searching for the place that sent chills down his spine. Enjolras' voice hitched, stuck between a moan and a gasp, loud and obvious despite his best efforts. Grantaire took a deep breath a moved his hand again, searching for the same spot.

" _Shit-_ more, fuck, hurry 'Taire," Enjolras huffed, crossing his ankles and curling his toes.

Grantaire braced one hand against the mattress below them, his other quickly and mercilessly stretching Enjolras open. The blonde winced slightly at the burn, carefully shifting his hips to give Grantaire better access. He added a second finger, then a third. Enjolras let out a strangled noise and clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to keep quiet.

"Good?" Grantaire asked breathlessly, cheek pressed against Enjolras’ thigh.

"Yes, yes, it's good, just hurry up and fuck me," Enjolras snapped.

"Ooh, bossy," Grantaire teased, kissing him swiftly before drawing out his hand and flexing his fingers. "Okay, just let me get ready." He groped again for the bottle, even though there was probably still enough smeared across Enjolras’ abdomen, and squeezed out a dollop, warming it again and stroking himself quickly.

Enjolras drew his legs back, wrapping them instead around Grantaire’s waist. Grantaire could tell he was holding his breath, every muscle tensed as he lined himself up. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Grantaire pushed in with one fluid motion, drawing out a groan from the blonde beneath him, who quickly covered his mouth again, squeezing his eyes shut.

He paused a moment, breathing heavily, before pulling back slightly and thrusting forward again, relishing in Enjolras' high pitched, musical moans and gasps. "God, R, please-"

Grantaire ducked down to silence him with a kiss, accentuating his point by snapping his hips forward roughly. Enjolras sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s neck.

"Shit," Grantaire mumbled as he fucked into Enjolras, knowing neither of them were going to be quiet for long. Okay. As long as they were quick. Grantaire grabbed Enjolras by the hips, pulling him down and the same moment he thrusted up. It would be okay, as long as they were quick-

_"AH! SHIT, DON'T- FUCK!"_ Enjolras suddenly shrieked at the top of his lungs, pushing at Grantaire’s chest. Grantaire jumped, his hands firm on Enjolras’ waist, eyes wide.

"What-"

"Stop, stop, let go!" Enjolras gasped, in less of a _I-am-so-turned-on-I-can't-breathe_ sort of way and more of a _I-am-laughing-so-hard-I-might-cry_ way.

Grantaire yanked his hands away, immediately stopping all movement, and Enjolras laughed breathlessly underneath him, tears shining in the corners of his eyes.

"Enjolras, what the hell-"

"God- _you know-_ that I'm- ticklish- on my kidneys!" Enjolras wheezed, laughing until he couldn't breathe.

_Oh._ So he hadn't been in excruciating pain. The vibrations of Enjolras’ laughter shook Grantaire, and before long he was laughing too, and then they were just a sticky, sweaty, gasping mess, Grantaire still buried to the hilt inside Enjolras.

He carefully tugged Enjolras back down to meet him after they sort of caught their breath, being careful to avoid his lower back. His arms were still weak from laughter, biting his lip and trying to cover Enjolras’ mouth because, honestly, at this point they would be lucky if the entire hotel wasn't awake.

They were both still giggling by the time Grantaire managed push back in with real force, driving himself as deep as he could go. Enjolras whined, chest heaving, and he pulled Grantaire down for a messy kiss.

The artist wrapped Enjolras in his arms, lifting him slightly off the mattress and bracing one arm against the headboard. He pressed a rough kiss to Enjolras’ exposed throat and drove himself into him faster and rougher. Enjolras arched against him, wanting to laugh, wanting to cry, instead gasping as Grantaire hit him right in a spot that made him want to shout. He felt himself begin to to go limp in his arms, gasping Grantaire’s name, both of them falling into a quick, hurried rhythm of sparks of pleasure, creaking bedsprings, gentle moans and light giggles.

Grantaire could tell how sensitive Enjolras was now, being so overstimulated at that point, by the way he whimpered and moaned, locking his ankles behind Grantaire, weak laughter still bubbling up. Grantaire wished he could see his face. He could vaguely hear the bedsprings squeaking, clouded by Enjolras’ soft cries of pleasure, gentle rocking into the mattress mixed in with a few rough thrusts until Enjolras was drawn tight as a bowstring.

When the blonde came, it was almost without warning, moaning and laughing breathlessly, grabbing helplessly at Grantaire’s hair, his neck, his shoulders. Grantaire shuddered at the sudden warmth between the two of them, the tight clenching of Enjolras’ body around him.

He braced himself and thrust sharply into the pliant, soft body beneath him, focusing in on Enjolras’ cries as he barreled on to the finish line, headboard smacking against the wall, and then-

Grantaire groaned long and low when he came, mostly muffling the noise into the side of Enjolras’ neck, squeezing them tightly together. Enjolras let out a small, satisfied hum, arms coming up to wrap around the artist's shoulders.

It was quiet then, only their loud breathing to fill the silence as Grantaire felt himself soften inside Enjolras. He winced slowly as he pulled out, flopping onto the bed next to his love, both of them blinking out into the darkness.

The silence stretched on for a few more minutes before Enjolras laughed gently and rolled over to face Grantaire, curling in towards him unconsciously. Grantaire did the same, smiling even though he could not see his face. "Sorry about that." Enjolras just smiled, shaking his head, and pulled Grantaire in closer.

Grantaire lifted his hand, gently stroking Enjolras’ cheek and brushing away the now-wild blonde hair falling into his eyes. He leaned forward and claimed another kiss, lips moving languidly. Enjolras kissed him back, hand moving to cup Grantaire’s cheek.

"Do you love me?" he asked the blonde when they pulled away, curling his arms around his waist.

"More and more, every second of every minute of every day," Enjolras answered promptly, without delay or thought.

"You're sure? Sure that- you'll feel that way tomorrow? And a year from now? And forever after, even?"

"I will always feel that way, Grantaire," he said seriously. "Even when we're old and gray."

"No matter how bad the sex gets?"

"Well, that's up for debate." Grantaire raised his eyebrows, and Enjolras grinned and kissed his forehead. "Of course not. No matter what embarrassing things happen from tonight on, I'll always love you."

Grantaire smiled back. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Grantaire allowed himself to cuddle into Enjolras’ chest, smiling happily. "And you?" He asked the artist, tracing absent patterns into the skin of his back. "Do you promise to love me forever?"

"I have loved you since the first time I saw you, and I will love you until the last time. I promise." Enjolras nodded, and Grantaire could feel the movement. "Cold feet?"

"Toasty warm." Grantaire laughed.

"I should go," he sighed, hugging him tighter. "Courf is already going to kill me for breaking tradition."

"Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Babe, I think people in Spain know."

Enjolras joined into his soft laughter, pressing a kiss to his curls and reluctantly pulling out of his arms. "Well, if you have to go."

"Don't fret, I'm just a couple of doors down if you... _need anything._ " Grantaire winked provocatively at him, sitting on the edge of the bed and sorting through the clothes heaped on the floor.

"Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day," Enjolras recited dramatically, flopping back onto the mountain of pillows.

Grantaire grinned, finding Enjolras’ boxers and tossing them at him. "Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops," he teased, skipping forward in the text. "I must be gone and live, or stay and die."

Enjolras snorted at the inappropriate metaphor, then considered how Courfeyrac and Jehan would react the next morning, and decided Grantaire was right. "Fine then, go."

"Some Juliet you are," Grantaire muttered, tugging into his jeans and standing up. "Am I the only one that feels like a teenager about to be caught in the act?"

"No." Enjolras smiled to himself and quickly pulled on his shorts, snuggling back down under the blankets. "Goodnight, 'Taire," he said softly.

Grantaire moved back to the bed when he was fully dressed, bending down to kiss Enjolras, full of passion and warmth. "Night, mon ange. Good luck tomorrow."

"You too."

Grantaire grabbed his jacket off the floor and slowly cracked the door open, peeking out into the bright hallway before slipping out and letting it shut slowly behind him.

Enjolras smiled and burrowed deeper into the bed, breathing in the scent of sex and sweat and something distinctly _Grantaire_.

*

_"Sex hair."_ Courfeyrac wailed, collapsing onto the bed and burying his face into the sheets. "How could you do this to me, Enjolras? And on the morning of your wedding! _Sex hair!!_ " He lifted his head to see the wild array of gold framing Enjolras’ (unimpressed) face before flopping back down with a groan. Behind him, Jehan shook his head solemnly.

Enjolras sighed, pushing the blankets off and standing, hands on his hips. "We'll just have to fix it, okay? We have what, seven hours? We can fix it."

_"We only have seven hours to fix your sex hair,"_ Courfeyrac groaned.

Combeferre was smiling at the other end of the room, arms crossed. That morning the three had burst into the room, flipping on lights and singing wildly out-of-tune versions of the wedding march before Courfeyrac made his heartbreaking discovery.

"Well, then we'd better get started." Combeferre came forward and took Enjolras by the arm. "You," he said sternly. "Go get in the shower. We'll get your clothes together."

Enjolras smiled and swept past a still-lamenting Courfeyrac into the bathroom, flicking on lights. It was much too bright, the little row of lamps above the sink reflecting off the granite countertop, the marble walls unique to hotels. Enjolras blinked, letting his eyes get used to the light, and squinted at himself in the mirror. So, maybe Courfeyrac did have a point. It was really just a blessing that none of them had noticed the light hickeys on his throat and chest. Yet. He sighed and turned the water on in the bath, letting it run until steam filled the room.

He stood under the hot stream of water, eyes closed, letting it flatten out his hair and rinse away traces of the night before. Thinking about what an absolute disaster it had been, he smiled and reached for the shampoo. He wondered what Grantaire was doing. Probably off being manhandled by Musichetta or Éponine or both. He wished Grantaire was there with him.

When the water ran clear, all traces of soap washed down the drain, Enjolras turned off the water, allowing himself to stand there briefly, water still trailing off him, eyes closed.

He took a deep breath and threw the curtain back, reaching for a towel.

Back in the bedroom, Courfeyrac was setting up what looked like an entire beauty salon across the desk and table by the windows. Combeferre had a menacing garment bag in one hand, and Jehan threw a big fluffy white tent at Enjolras that turned out to be an enormous bathrobe.

"Put that on," Jehan said, "and then you need to eat something."

"And then?" Enjolras asked warily, tying the robe before letting the towel drop from his waist.

"And then we work our magic." Jehan winked at him.

Half an hour later, Enjolras was playing listlessly with the remains of a soggy bowl of cereal while Courfeyrac, Cosette and Jehan discussed how best to do Enjolras’ hair, Combeferre and Marius chatting about something Enjolras couldn't quite pick up (work, maybe?). He wasn't so sure he felt hungry anymore.

"You finished over there?" Jehan asked suddenly, pulling Enjolras out of his reverie.

"Yes- yes, I am," Enjolras said, startled at the sudden question.

"Excellent! We can get started now- Cosette, Courf, ready?"

"Yes!" Courfeyrac jumped up excitedly and flops onto the bed next to Enjolras, grinning from ear to ear. "So. Are you nervous?"

"No," Enjolras answered immediately, a little too much indignation in his voice.

"Aw." Cosette sat on his other side, tucking her legs up under herself. "Not even a little? That's too bad- I was a _mess_ the day of my wedding."

"Would you rather I was a sweating, crying wreck?" Enjolras faked a smile. "I'm just not nervous."

Courfeyrac squinted his eyes at Enjolras, giving him The Courfeyrac Appraisal (a scary, rare look that made Enjolras feel like Courf could see right through him) before shrugging and smiling easily. "Whatever. Come on, it's time to get you ready."

He took Enjolras by the hand and dragged him to the desk with the chair, pushing him down to sit. "Now just relax and let us work our magic."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I want?" Enjolras protested weakly.

"Sorry, but no," Jehan answered professionally. He examined Enjolras carefully and _tsk_ ed in reproach. "Look at your  _eyes_. Just how long was he in here?"

Enjolras blushed despite his best efforts. "Be quiet."

It was almost two in the afternoon before the trio released him, like a little fledgling. "C'mon, you have to see!" Cosette giggled, steering him back into the bathroom. Enjolras braced himself and looked in the mirror.

"I look-" he paused, scanning his reflection. "Good job on the hair."

Admittedly, Courfeyrac and Jehan and Cosette had done pretty well, considering Enjolras was ready to bolt when they whipped out foundations and powders and pencils and... other _things_ he didn't have a name for. And his hair certainly looked better than usual, each ringlet in place. Or, at least better than that morning. Overall, not as scary as he'd expected.

"Well? Do you like it?" Jehan squeezed his shoulder warmly.

"Uh." Enjolras examined his face again, suddenly wondering what Grantaire looked like now. Would Grantaire like what Enjolras looked like? What if he was having second thoughts after all? Enjolras caught sight of his engagement ring, sparkling on his hand in the bright lights of the bathroom, and suddenly he felt a little faint. "It's really-"

Courfeyrac cheered. "He likes it!! Man, I'm telling you Enj, eyeliner works _wonders_ on anyone, don't be so afraid-"

"Okay, okay." Combeferre pushed into the bathroom with the rest of them, catching sight of the look on Enjolras’ face in the mirror. "You've done an excellent job, but you should all go get ready. Okay? I'll get him dressed."

"Are you sure?" Cosette anxiously brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Because we can stay, it would only take a little while."

"No, no, I've got it," Combeferre reassured her with a calming smile. "You should spend a little time for yourselves, too."

"Ok," Jehan said, grinning at Courfeyrac excitedly. "Call us if you need anything, though! We'll be in our rooms!"

"Okay, I will."

"See ya Enj!"

"Don't sweat off your face," Courfeyrac warned before being dragged out by Jehan. Cosette winked at Enjolras and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, leaving with Marius.

Combeferre sighed, watching the closed door for a moment before walking back into the main bedroom, returning quickly with the black garment bag.

"You ready to get dressed?"

"Um- yes. Yes, thank you, I just need to-"

"Enjolras?" Combeferre grabbed his friend's wrist, stopping him from running (where to, in the small hotel room? The closet?). "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Enjolras took a deep breath, eyes glued to his hand again. "Yes, I just- I need some air-"

"Don't lie to me, Enj," Combeferre chastised, his voice gentle but words stern. "Come on. Let's sit."

He carefully guided Enjolras out to the tiny balcony, forcing open the squeaking glass sliding doors and helping Enjolras out. "Thanks," the blonde mumbled.

"Okay, out with it. What's wrong? And don't," he said, closing his eyes and holding up a hand at Enjolras’ first protests, "say it's nothing. I know you, Enj, and I know you're upset about something."

"It's- just pre-wedding jitters," Enjolras said, crossing his arms. "That's all. I'm a little anxious."

"Why? About what?" Combeferre looked at him over the rims of his glasses and Enjolras felt a familiar wave of relief: here was the Combeferre he wanted and needed, the Combeferre who always knew exactly what to do and say to make it all better.

"About getting married. About getting married to Grantaire." Enjolras felt a heavy load lift from his chest, and he actually sighed in relief.

Combeferre paused. "How come? What are you thinking?"

"It's just... Grantaire is great. Grantaire is- everything and anything I want or need. And I love him so much." Enjolras bit his lip, bowed his head.

"So what's the problem?"

"I don't know how a lifelong commitment will work. I'm so invested in my job, and I thought for so long Grantaire must hate me: who's to say I won't get worse down the line? And I..." he sighed, wringing his hands unconsciously. "I can see how much he loves me and wants me, I know that for sure. How can I match that? Undying devotion, and what will I bring? Doesn't he deserve someone who can give him the same?"

Combeferre was quiet for so long Enjolras was beginning to worry. He looked up to see Combeferre’s eyes closed, brow furrowed, deep in thought. Yet another reassuring thing: no matter how ridiculous or childish someone's despair became, Combeferre always thought about it long and hard before answering.

Finally he opened his eyes and looked directly at his best friend. "Enjolras. Do you love Grantaire?"

"More than anything, but-"

"Do you want to marry him?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I'd make a good husband-"

"I didn't ask how good you would be at marriage. I asked if you wanted to marry Grantaire."

"Yes. Absolutely, I want to marry him. Of course I do."

"Then nothing else matters, Enj." Combeferre grabbed him by the hands and stared at him seriously. "I'm not going to tell you you should do this if you have qualms. Most people would. But this is real, Enj, and you need to decide. If you really think that you love him, and you want him and nobody else, then I can't think of any reason you shouldn't marry him. Okay?"

Enjolras nodded, eyebrows knit upwards.

"The only person who can decide is you, Enj. But I will tell you this." Combeferre finally smiled a little. "No matter where in the world, no matter what time or weather, in the gritty roughness of revolution or romanticized war or our modern era: you and Grantaire would always find each other. I'm sure of it."

Enjolras felt the butterflies slowly ebbing away as Combeferre spoke. He nodded, looking at his feet.

"So what do you want to do, Enj? It's up to you."

Enjolras was quiet, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

He sighed, took a deep breath and made up his mind.

"Let's go get dressed, well. We have a wedding to get to."

Combeferre broke into a real smile then. "There you go. C'mon, we have to hurry."

In the room Combeferre unzipped the long black bag, pulling out the crisp grey suit Enjolras had chosen months before, along with his favorite (lucky) red tie.

Enjolras slipped into the shirt and waistcoat, taking care not to wrinkle anything. He picked up his coat, running his hands over the soft grey material before pulling it on, straightening his sleeves, buttoning the vest.

"What do you think?" he asked, showing Combeferre.

The other man smiled. "Excellent. Grey goes well with your hair." He pulled on his own blazer.

"Thanks." Enjolras moved to look at himself in the mirror.

He wore a suit almost every day, working at a law firm, put it on in the morning and sometimes fell asleep in them at night. This time it felt... different, somehow, feeling all made up and dressed in a new suit. On his wedding day. That was probably the most sensational thing about the whole affair.

Not that Enjolras had ever been averse to marriage, but considering the fact that he'd never had a serious relationship ~~or had sex~~ with anyone up until getting together with Grantaire, he'd been pretty much content to live out his life alone, working for the greater good and all that. Dating and marriage had never really worked its way into the equation. Until, of course- well, until he'd met Grantaire. And a couple of years had passed. And then they'd dated for a while, and finally...

Enjolras let out a long sigh. This was really happening.

"Are you about ready to go?"

"Yes. I'm ready."

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever be able to write serious smut? Who knows. (I tried but the universe was not having it.) So many headcanons went into this, it wasn't supposed to be so long I swear. I've been artistically constipated for weeks and so I dragged this dinosaur from the depths of my computer and now we're here.
> 
> Thank you for reading my sappy awkward sex, I suppose, and if you enjoyed please leave me a comment or kudos!


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